Flowers
by sirrryesssirrr
Summary: Santana is allergic to flowers. Brittany/Santana fluff. Femslash.


Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.

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Santana is allergic to flowers.

Okay, well, it's really all the pollen, but she's used the flower allergy excuse so stupid boys didn't think they could vy her affection by trying to impress her. Someone once got her a bouquet of breadsticks and that earned him major points that night. Other than that, she thinks it's a waste of energy plucking them from the ground and moving them to water. Plus, she doesn't have time to take care of the damn things when they're on their way to die anyway.

Santana should've known; she should've seen it. But the surprise has left her speechless and, well, that's a welcomed change sometimes.

She just turned down one of the football guys from asking her out with a rose. She's both annoyed and amused that someone probably let loose the information that the way to get in Santana's Cheerio skirt was through flowers and general mushy shit.

Brittany sauntered over the cheerleading table and sat beside her best friend. "Who did you turn down this time?"

"Aaron Samuels."

"I thought you turned him down last week."

"Some bitch is telling him that I changed my mind."

"Did you?"

"Of course not. Besides, I'm not gonna take sloppy seconds from that hobag. Anyway, I have to go meet with Mr. Schue because I wrote a bunch of swear words on his test again. I'll see you at glee club."

"Okay," Brittany said. "Oh! Can I use your locker? I don't remember my locker combination. I'm afraid there's another bird in there."

Santana didn't even question it even though it didn't make sense. But she just smiled. "Yeah, Britt."

Brittany smiled and she left for her dumb, unnecessary meeting with Mr. Schue.

When Santana walked back to put her stuff away before Glee, she opened her locker and was surprised to find a red rose wedged between her books. She was getting ready to throw it out when she saw a ribbon and a two of hearts playing card attached to it. Santana picked it up.

_Hi, San! This flower may be fake but my love for you is not! _

At the bottom of the note was a drawn heart with a B beside it. Santana twirled the flower, wondering what possessed Brittany to ever do something so special for her. She sniffed the air and found that the fake flower smelled like vanilla.

Brittany sidled up to her, startling her in the process. "Oh, you got it!"

"This is for me."

"Yeah, didn't you read the note? I'm sure I spelled your name right."

"Why did you get me a flower?"

"Because everyone loves flowers. And just because you're allergic to them doesn't mean you should miss out on it. You already miss out on peanuts because of your other allergies. Plus it smells good. Smell it. I ran out of the flower kinds of body sprays, so I just used my vanilla one."

A soft smile formed on Santana's lips. The flower smelled like her best friend in the mornings after her shower. Her smile grew wider before looking at the girl beside her. "Thanks, Britt."

"You're welcome. Now you don't have to sneeze when you have them. They're not the same, but they're pretty good. Don't you think so?"

"They're pretty great."

Brittany nodded her approval, proud of her handiwork. Santana hadn't moved, just stared at the other girl beside her. She was still speechless.

"Come on, we should probably get to glee club. Did Mr. Schue tell you to stop swearing again?"

Brittany stepped back and waited patiently for her to close her locker and walk beside her. Just like that, Brittany went on with the rest of her day. But it changed everything for Santana.

Santana brought home her flower that day and placed it in a vase by her windowsill. It was the prettiest thing she'd ever been given. And the best part was it was never going to wilt. And didn't make her sneeze.

The next day, Santana found another one placed between her Spanish and Biology books. This time it was a pink carnation with the Queen of Spades. On the back of the card was a giant heart and a smiley face with Brittany's signature initial.

For the rest of the semester, Santana would randomly get an assortment of flowers in her locker. It was rather inconsistent, she noticed. But she realized that it was on particularly great days when Brittany remembered not just her own locker combination, but Santana's too.

These days, Santana's windowsill was littered with a garden eternally blooming of fifty flowers, the complete deck. The scent of Brittany, the presence of Brittany, settling comfortably in her room.

She would pick one up sometimes and twirl it between her fingers, the faint scent of Brittany's many perfumes lingering in the fabric petals. Santana just wanting to inhale Brittany in and letting it settle in her lungs.

Sometimes she'd think it sucked being allergic to flowers, but looking at her own garden, she thinks that she didn't mind so much. Nope, not at all.


End file.
